Jennie Geisler: Off-color cookbook brings bro to my kitchen

Wednesday

Oct 25, 2017 at 9:27 AMOct 25, 2017 at 9:27 AM

Jennie Geisler More Content Now

My brother Matt and I laughed our way through cookbook “Culinary Bro-Down.” And then ate like royalty.

There’s no way for you to experience this cookbook author full-on in a family newspaper, unfortunately. He has a foul mouth and does tend to gas on. But this is the first cookbook I’ve ever actually sat down and READ — and laughed — and read again and laughed again.

Then I made my brother, Matt, read it and I laughed because he was laughing. We decided to cook from it together.

“The Culinary Bro-Down Cookbook,” is by Josh Scherer, who talks like some extra from the movie “Animal House,” but don’t let his dumb-frat-dude schtick fool you. He’s a genius in the kitchen. These recipes and techniques are impressive and the food tastes amazing.

Scherer is hilarious from Intro to Index. “Did I need 800 degrees of open flame to make scrambled eggs for breakfast?” he asks in his foreword. “Probably not. Was the grill a gross example of overconsumption? Bet your a-- it was, but it was OUR gross example of overconsumption.”

He has a blog, at www.culinarybrodown.net, where he muses in R-rated fashion about food and recipes and life in general. I’m one of his newest fans.

Five things I learned:1. Pork belly is just bacon before they slice it up. And it is magnificent. I got a 3-pounds.

And then I killed it.

You’re supposed to cook it in 2 cups of water for six hours and then put it in the refrigerator. I put it in at about 9 p.m., set an alarm for 3 a.m. and slept right through it to 7 a.m., so I cooked it more like 10 hours, and not even pork belly can forgive an extra four hours of cooking.

But you could tell how amazing it would have tasted in the fish caramel sauce inside the taco shells with the pickled daikon with the fresno chillies — had the meat retained any tenderness at all. Matt was thrilled with me.

2. Fish caramel sauce probably sounds wretched, but that is Scherer’s genius. His food makes no sense at all on paper. You just have to trust him. The stuff was layers and layers of sweet and meaty, salty, slightly spicy flavor that I wanted to put on every piece of meat I ever ate again in my lifetime

By the way, it contains no fish and no caramel. It is made of lime juice, sugar, fish sauce (a fermented Asian condiment with loads of flavor), habanero, star anise pods and a cinnamon stick. The “caramel” is just the browned sugar in the pot with the lime juice and sugar. Candy makers will know where I’m going with this, but you can’t stir it AT ALL until it turns reddish brown, or the sugar will turn to crystals and that’s bad. Matt understood this, and tried explaining it with his hands, but my brain was full and scattered, so I just took his word for it.

I just didn’t mess with it. After it turned the right color, it was “caramelized,” and I turned off the heat and stirred in the rest of the ingredients and it turned the color of stout.

The recipe called for a sliced habanero, but I knew I couldn’t take that much heat, so I just put in a whole one for the steeping period and removed it before we used the sauce.

3. Had I not killed the pork belly, the tacos would have won the day, but since I did, the winner was Orange Cauliflower, which tasted exactly like orange chicken you get from Chinese takeout. Everyone was sneaking pieces of it while we waited for everything else to be done. It’s also probably the simplest recipe we made. I left out the Thai chilies. The real key is to use fresh orange juice.

4. Scherer uses beer in most of his recipes, and in most cases stipulates light beer, such as Bud Light or cheaper. It’s part of his schtick, but he does have a point. Better beer has more flavor, and could overpower or alter the other flavors in a dish. Matt, who routinely makes fun of my fancy beer tastes, went with Yeungling Light. Pick your poison.

5. The Mushroom Toast with Blue Cheese Whipped Cream was like something you’d pick off an hors d’oeuvre tray at a fancy party. We used those little squares of pumpernickel toast, but regular toasted baguette slices would probably be better. (Or you could just eat it all off a spoon, like I did, after the cameras were off and everyone else had left the kitchen.)

Heat that quart of vegetable oil on medium-high heat in whatever vessel you use to fry foods. You want the oil to be 350F.

Get out two mixing bowls. Fill the first with cornstarch, and fill the second with the eggs and beer and whisk them together. Put a teaspoon of salt in each and mix, just in case.

Take the cauliflower florets and dredge them in the cornstarch, then give them a quick bath in the wet ingredients, then get them back into the cornstarch, and really work to press the cornstarch into every nook and cranny.

Drop the cauliflower nuggets into the hot oil, making sure you don’t overcrowd the pan. Fry for about 6 minutes each batch, until they’re a deep golden brown. Don’t let the oil get above 350F, because you need to fry these for a long enough time that the cauliflower steams itself from the inside out.

Let the cauliflower nuggets drain on a paper towel and then start building your sauce. Heat that tablespoon of vegetable oil on high heat in a large saute pan and when it starts to shimmer, add the chilies, shallot, garlic and ginger. Stir with a wooden spoon so it doesn’t burn and everything gets evenly sweated, about 5 minutes.

While that’s happening, juice all three oranges ... and then pour that into the pan, along with the soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, sesame oil, and 1 cup water. Whisk it all together in the pan, let come to a boil, and reduce for 5 or 6 minutes, until the sauce sticks to the back of a spoon. If you want the sauce to be a little bit tighter, sprinkle ½ teaspoon leftover cornstarch into the sauce and stir quickly to avoid lumps.

When the sauce is done reducing, keep it on the heat, throw in your cauliflower nuggets, and give them a good toss in the sauce. Serve on top of white rice (or not, I have no dog in this fight.) and garnish with some sesame seeds, scallions, and some slices of Thai chili if you’re really trying to get froggy.— “The Culinary Bro-Down Cookbook,” by Josh Scherer

Whenever I procrasti-cook, the weird (stuff) starts to come out of the woodwork. Combinations I never would have thought to try — but if I try them and they work, then that’s the equivalent of hitting a (darned) stress-relieving home run ball.

This blue cheese whipped cream went straight into the upper deck. It’s such a simple thing, but it tastes like nothing you’ve ever had before — creamy and airy and funky, and when it starts to melt down the sides of that toast, there’s nothing like it.

Wipe the mushrooms down with a damp paper towel and then start butchering them. You want the main pieces of ’shroom to be about 1½ inches long.

When your mushrooms are butchered, heat the vegetable oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan on high heat. When the oil starts to smoke, drop in some of the mushrooms, making sure not to overcrowd the pan. Sear for about 1 minute on each side, until deeply browned. Maybe even get some black on it. Take the seared mushrooms out of the pan and start on the next batch.

When the last round of mushrooms is finished searing, quickly throw the shallots, thyme, and butter into the pan, and add back all your mushrooms. Season up with salt and black pepper, and continue to saute on high heat for another 2 minutes, until the shallots are translucent. Turn the heat off, add the juice of half the lemon, and give it a good toss to coat.

Throw the cream — make sure it’s ice cold — blue cheese, 1 teaspoon salt and ½ teaspoon black pepper into the food processor. Let it run on high for about a minute, until it sticks to the bowl.Slice bread. Then toast it.Top the toast with mushrooms and dollops of blue cheese whipped cream and serve with the remaining half lemon on the side for ad hoc squeezing. The whipped cream is going to start melting when it hits the hot mushrooms and it’s ... wild. You’ll love it.— “The Culinary Bro-Down Cookbook,” by Josh Scherer

If I were in a cooking death-match and my life depended on one dish, I would make these tacos. I pitched that idea to Food Network by the way, and they didn’t love it. Their loss.

The night before: Preheat your oven to 300F. Season the pork belly liberally with salt and pepper, place it in a large casserole dish with 2 cups water, cover tightly with foil, and throw in the oven. Braise for at least 6 hours, until fork tender. Take the pork belly out of the braising pan and chill it in the fridge overnight.

That same night, you should also pickle that daikon: Mix ½ cup water, the rice vinegar, sugar, and salt in a saucepot on high heat and whisk until the sugar dissolves. When it comes to a boil, turn off the burner. Peel the daikon, then cut it into matchsticks as thin as possible. Place the daikon in a heat-proof container, pour the pickling liquid over it, and let it chill in the fridge.

The next day: Make your fish sauce caramel. Heat a heavy-bottomed saucepan on medium-high and combine ¼ cup of water, the lime juice, and the sugar. Let that cook for about 15 minutes without (messing) with it. If you stir prematurely, the sugar will crystallize. Take it off the heat when it’s a deep reddish brown, then carefully whisk in the fish sauce plus an additional ¼ cup water. Place it back on the heat for about 2 minutes and stir it all together, then pour into a heat-proof jar. Throw in your habanero, star anise, and cinnamon and let it steep.

To assemble the tacos: Take out your chilled pork belly and cut it into 1-inch cubes. In a large saute pan, heat 1 inch vegetable oil over medium-high heat. When the oil is all shimmering ... add your pork belly cubes. The goal here is just to get them a little bit crispy and render some additional fat. Use a wooden spoon to ladle oil over the top of the belly cubes, then, when they’re nice and golden brown, about 3 minutes, remove and drain on some paper towels.Put the belly meats into a large mixing bowl then drizzle a bunch of that fish sauce caramel over the top. Toss until every piece of pork is sufficiently and fully lacquered.

Heat up some corn tortillas on a griddle, and then you’re ready to plate: Top the tortillas with some pork belly, some pickled daikon, a few mint leaves, a few basil leaves, some sliced Fresno chilie, and finish it all off with some crushed peanuts.— “The Culinary Bro-Down Cookbook,” by Josh Scherer

In Philadelphia, there is a popular sandwich known as a “cheese steak.” A common way to order a cheese steak — some would say the only way — is with Cheez Whiz and onions. This gets abbreviated to “Whiz-with,” but pronounced as if it were spelled “Whiz-wit.” My cheese steak is called the “Whiz-Lit,” because “lit” was once common parlance for (drunk) ....

Here I tried my best to create a version of that perma-liquid cheese spread, except also using beer. It’s easy to get the taste right; the hard part is getting that signature, violently yellow hue. That’s where ground turmeric comes into play ... You should really invest in a bottle — it costs $6 and it will give you an eternity of turning (stuff) yellow.

Whiz-Lit CheesesteaksMakes 4 sandwiches2 pounds ribeye steaks1 large white onion2 tablespoons vegetable oil2 tablespoons butter1 tablespoon flour1 can light beer½ cup heavy cream8 ounces yellow American cheese1 tablespoon nutritional yeast (optional, but recommended because it’ll make your whiz taste exponentially cheesier)1 teaspoon mustard powder (also optional, but, come on, man, just do it; do me a solid on this)1 teaspoon ground turmeric (again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but (Geez), will you just trust me? For once?)4 hoagie rollsCherry peppers from a jarSaltThe key to making a Philly cheese steak that doesn’t taste like some Denny’s (knockoff) is being able to slice the steak super thin when it’s raw and then murdering it in a hot pan. Philly cheese steaks with chunky beef are trash. Freezing the beef for an hour or so is going to let you slice it thinner, and not be a total (loser) at life.

While the cow parts are getting nice and chilly, dice that onion. Heat 1 tablespoon of the vegetable oil in a large saute pan on medium heat. When it’s hot, throw in your onions and saute for about 10 minutes. You really don’t want too much color on them, and you sure as (heck) don’t want to caramelize them. Your goal is for pure, sweaty translucence. Set aside.

Heat a medium saucepot on medium heat and add the butter. When it’s melted, add the flour and stir in with a wooden spoon. When the flour turns a nice golden color, after about 2 minutes, add the beer and cream and whisk. Bring that mixture up to a bubble. Let it reduce for 3 minutes while continuing to whisk. Gotta cook off the beer stank. Add the cheese, and, if you did the one (darned) thing I asked you to do, the nutritional yeast, mustard powder, and turmeric (for the yellow). When the cheese is melted and the mixture is homogeneous, turn off the heat and let the whiz hang out.

You can probably take those steaks out of the freezer now. You don’t want them to be rock solid, because that would make slicing impossible, but you also don’t want them to be just chilled. You need some frozen texture in there. Sharpen your knife as sharp as it will sharpen. Hattori Hanzo (like). Slice through the ribeyes against the grain of fat as thinly as you can. It sucks because there’s no shortcut here, but you gotta do it. Put the team on your back, youngblood!

Heat the remaining 1 tablespoon vegetable oil in a heavy-bottomed saute pan — or cast-iron skillet — on the highest heat you can find. Make that (stuff) NaPoM hot (not a misspelling of the incendiary weapon used to commit war crimes in Vietnam, but professional beatboxer NaPoM. Dude is absolute fire).

IMPORTANT STEP: While the pan is heating up, slice the hoagie rolls in half but leave the hinges intact. Schmear a whole bunch of that beer whiz on both sides of each roll — 4 tablespoons per sandwich should do it. Lay down some onions on one side of the roll and some cherry pepper slices on the other. Place each roll on top of a big* sheet of foil. This is foreshadowing. Chekhov’s gun and all that.

When the oil’s smoking, drop in about half a pound of beef, which is enough for one sando. Dust the meat with salt as soon as it hits the pan. Let it sear for about a minute on one side — you want a little bit of char — then saute it around to finish cooking.

Using tongs, transfer the hot meat ... directly into a roll — really smash it in there — then fold the foil around the sandwich so no air can escape. The meat is going to steam the bread and re-melt the cheese to molten status. It’s a (daggone) thermodynamic Christmas miracle. Make the remaining sandwiches. You won’t need to add more oil because enough beef fat should be rendered in the pan from the previous batch. Wait at least 3 minutes before eating.— “The Culinary Bro-Down Cookbook,” by Josh Scherer